When the plan fails then fades it leads to ugly, honest prayers

Growing up in the True Love Waits generation, I can tell you, I have waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. You would think by now I would be nominated for sainthood. And in the midst of this is when I Kissed Dating Goodbye.

That’s because there was a plan:

Graduate high school.
Go to college.
Learn stuff.
Get married.
Get a job.
Live life like everyone is supposed to – with the kids and the house and the husband and the dog.


So when I finished college and the next step didn’t pan out, I went to grad school. When I still seemed to be stuck, I moved home. Being in a constant transition for the next two-three years seemed to be a good time to find someone to settle down with – as long as he was settled because I wasn’t.

Savannah has been the longest stretch in one spot and it has been riddled with it’s own transitions – each one leading farther and farther away from the plan.

And the farther away I get, the more that plan seems to fade – just like the mark left from my True Love Waits ring. But there’s still a mark. There’s still evidence that a plan was in place. There is still a reminder that this is not what I thought was supposed to be.

I am not bitter about this. The fading has been the freeing. Recognizing that my connection comes from different sources and my time is used in different ways has allowed me to be filled up and free to be useable in many different ways that I treasure. The people I have the privilege to overlap with usually do not even know the warmth they bring to my heart.

But there’s still the mark of the ring that reminds me of what was meant to be was not meant to be.

Being connected to others but necessary for none is an awfully strange wilderness to be lost in. Since my heart of stone has been removed and I have been given the heart of flesh – it hurts a bit easier watching so many move on with the plan – watching a few just move on.

Sometimes I feel a little beat-up by the offbeat as I march to the beat of my own drum.

Tonight my prayer shifted. “God, I need to see this how you see this. Because I know in your goodness this is where you have me.”

And that is the thing about prayer. It is not a magic word. It is not a formula for change. What it does is strip me down to my core – my fleshy heart that is often selfish – and reveals my motives. Then it lets me choose. Tonight, I choose the Lord. I choose to believe he is good and his goodness is in this place, just like every other moment of my life. Nothing is hidden from him and I am certainly no stranger to him.

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